


Seeing Scarlet

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Conflict, F/M, Romance, Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:18:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't intend to be her enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Valentine's Day challenge in 2007.

Red is for anger, for frustration, for rage.

Steven never expected she’d accept him from the start, but he didn’t expect such opposition. He’s doing what he considers is best for the city - dismissing Sheppard’s decision wasn’t the primary consideration. There are changes that Steven felt needed to be done, while he was in command of the city, he was getting them done.

Why wait for an incapacitated man to do the job when he can do it himself?

He sincerely wishes Colonel Sheppard the best, and hopes that the man will be fixed by whatever means are available. But he’s not going to wish and hope and think and pray about it. That’s not his nature or his job.

There’s enough gossip about the SGC regarding Dr. Weir’s push to have Sheppard promoted to command rank. So far, the gossip splits on whether she was power-playing, or just fucking the then-Major.

Steven’s inclined to believe the former. His time shuttling back and forth between Atlantis and the SGC has made it clear enough that Sheppard sticks to the frat regs, even if he recklessly breaks other rules without compunction. And Dr Weir appears to have an almost-pathological need to exert control over the city. She might mellow - this is her first stint as a long-term administrator rather than a short-term negotiator - but only time will tell.

He doesn’t intend to be an enemy - to Weir, Sheppard, or Atlantis, whatever she might think.

But he’ll let her hostility ease back before he speaks with her again.

As he takes the Asgard transporter back up to the _Daedelus_ , Steven Caldwell wonders what the colour of resignation is.

\--

Red is for danger, for warning, for caution.

His role in Atlantis is not the one he would have chosen for himself: taxi driver and restraining voice.

Steven wonders why he lets her do this to him - to cast him as the voice of caution, when all Sheppard is intent on doing is throwing care to the wind.

He stays behind after the others follow Sheppard out, and Elizabeth stares defiantly back at him.

“If they end up engaging with the hive--”

“They want to do this.”

“And you want them to do it.”

“Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t stop them, Colonel. They have to try.”

She _needs_ them to try.

Whatever this expedition began as, it’s become something distinctly more. It might be John Sheppard’s influence, it might be the stubborn determination of Elizabeth Weir, it might even be the inclusion of Teyla Emmagen and Ronon Dex in the expedition - the adjustment of what it means to ‘belong’ in Atlantis.

Colonel Steven Caldwell is only ever going to stand on the outskirts of Atlantis, and for that, he will be eternally relegated to Cassandrian prophecy - to cry ‘doom’ unheeded.

He shakes his head in resignation and turns on his heel to leave.

“Steven.” He glances back, and Elizabeth’s standing in the midst of the empty room, her fingers clenched around each other. “Thank you for taking them out there.”

He shrugs, unwilling to let her see how much her appreciation means. “Thank me when they bring Dex back, Elizabeth.”

\--

Red is for desire, for passion, for love.

Elizabeth doesn’t have nails to dig into his shoulders, but her fingertips leave dents in his skin. Her shirt lies discarded on the floor of his quarters, a pool of burgundy in the grey-blue décor. Her lips part scarlet against the cream of her skin as he moves in her with slow steady strokes. Desire is a crimson haze, sparkling through his veins as she pants in his ear.

Speech is overrated, words beyond him. The tension of arousal battles against the need to do the gentlemanly thing - to please his partner before letting himself go. Steven grinds Elizabeth hard into the bed, lifting himself off with his forearms so he has better leverage for his hips as he moves, changing the angle between them, feeling her shudder.

Need races through him as her fingers trail from shoulders to sides to hips, holding him fast, guiding his thrusts as she arches until her nipples brush his chest. The delicate sensation sparks through his belly, in his groin as he thrusts again, again.

Her head jerks back into the pillow and her fingers bite into his buttocks. Awash with satisfaction, he glimpses the glitter of tears beneath her lashes - a twinkle of pleasure that becomes a fiery supernova, exploding through his senses as he spends himself in her arms and her body.

Later, after they’ve cleaned up and are dressing, he tucks in the white tag of her scarlet shirt, letting his finger slide along the inside edge of the collar in casual caress.

Elizabeth accepts the touch with a glance as she runs a careful hand through her hair. But when she turns at the door, her cheeks carry a reddish tinge. “Colonel Caldwell.”

“Dr. Weir.” He lets her put the distance between them - leader of the expedition, and commander of the _Daedelus_. The way things are, but not how they always have to be. “Have a good evening.”

The smile that flashes across her lips is wicked. “I already have.”


End file.
